


Somewhat Famous

by beelieveinolicity



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beelieveinolicity/pseuds/beelieveinolicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spending one weekend with her famous best friend in Starling City, Felicity finds herself letting loose one night, leading her into local playboy, Oliver Queen's, bed. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhat Famous

**I’m back with a new story! Yay! This ones a little more ‘fun’ and ‘light’ than my last one. Although it is, again, and AU with elements of the show weaved through. I’m already having a lot of fun with it and hope you enjoy the read. Let me know your thoughts!**

* * *

 

“If I haven’t already said it enough,” Sara said, lifting her sunglasses so she could see Felicity better. “I’m going to say it again-“

 

“You really don’t have to-“

 

“Thank God you’re here.”

 

Felicity snorted, watching Sara replace her sunglasses and rest her head back against the lounge chair. Her yoga pants were rolled up to her thighs, allowing her already tan legs to be kissed by the sun. Felicity looked down at her summer dress, pulled back to expose some skin, remembering how Sara used to call her Casper the Friendly Ghost whenever they would lay out by the pool in high school—her pasty white skin capable of blinding anyone standing too close. That was back when Sara was still living in Las Vegas and dreaming about becoming an environmental activist rather than an actress.

 

Scouts had discovered Sara at a car wash, where she was raising money for a new wild life center. By that point she had grown into her looks, swapping the tomboy t-shirts and jeans for short-shorts and low cut tops. A month later she had an agent, and a few months after that she was starring in commercials. She told Felicity that she hoped the fame would help draw awareness to her environmental campaigns. Of course, Felicity had been supportive, but she silently feared she might lose her friend to life in the fast lane. But even as Sara’s fame grew, whether it was cameo’s in reality TV shows or a five second piece of dialogue in some chick flick, her and Felicity had remained friends. Somehow it worked out.

 

Eventually, Felicity got into MIT, where she graduated with a degree in computer science, and Sara landed a role in some action packed thriller, pushing her to the top of the hot list. Felicity almost expected them to drift apart, but Sara called her almost every other weekend, complaining about the bustle of the entertainment industry and begging Felicity to come distract her in Starling City.

 

At the time, Felicity had been searching for a post-college job, but hadn’t decided if she wanted to stay in Las Vegas or work elsewhere. She even made a pro and con list, varying from family reasons on both sides to the remarkable job opportunities that were possible elsewhere.

 

But there had also been Cooper, her long time boyfriend, who she thought she would one day marry. Cooper had gotten a job at Lunar Inc. in downtown Vegas and was planning on settling there, which had been a big pro in staying close to home. But then two days ago, over lunch at some sushi restaurant, Cooper broke it off with her. No specific reason; just cause. She had been devastated—tissue blowing, ice cream binging, devastated—which prompted her to visit Sara in Starling City, to not only visit her friend, but also clear her head and get her priorities straight. 

 

Felicity shook her head, as if doing so would erase any stray thoughts of Cooper. She needed to be distracted. Felicity figured if she talked, she wouldn’t have to listen to her overanalyzing, internal voice.

 

“I’m flattered at the need for my company, but your life can’t be so horrible that it warrants a thank-god-you’re-here remark.”

 

Sara sighed, stretching her arms high above her head. “Between all the meetings, interviews and relentless paparazzi freaks, it’s nice to just lounge on the roof of my apartment with my best friend.”

 

Felicity hummed, listening to the honk of cars down below.

 

“But I don’t want to talk about me,” Sara said, tilting her head toward Felicity. “How are you?”

 

Felicity bit her lip. Oh no.

 

She had actually been hoping to avoid this question, because she knew it would inevitably lead back to you-know-who. A topic she wasn’t exactly keen on discussing.

 

“Oh you know.” Felicity waved a hand around, as if the gesture would fill in her missing words.  “Same old, same old.”

 

Sara sat up, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she peered over at Felicity, lips pursed. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing happened.”

 

“Felicity Smoak, since when have you limited your sentences to a max of four words?”

 

Felicity bit her lip, trying not to make eye contact with Sara, who had swung her legs over the side of the lounge chair, ready to pounce.

 

“Spill it.”

 

Sara had never particularly liked Cooper, so the news of their separation would probably come more as a relief than a shock, but Felicity still felt that if she didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t real yet. The wound was still fresh, and she needed time to heal on her own.

 

“It’s nothing,” Felicity said, shrugging, trying to play it off. “Just stuff with my mother, she’s getting all sentimental about me potentially leaving and everything, it’s just exhausting.”

 

Sara seemed to calm down at this, her shoulders loosening as she nodded. “You could always come live here, with me.”

 

Felicity laughed. “Could you actually see me in this city?”

 

“More than I could see you living in Death Trap Vegas for the rest of your life.”

 

Felicity clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Sara was right, Cooper and her mother were the only things keeping Felicity in that gaudy city and with one of those out of the equation, leaving seemed more and more like a plausible option.  

 

“So,” Sara said, drawing her hair up into a high ponytail. “What do you want to do tonight?”

 

Felicity paused, considering something. “Depends.” She poked her arm, feeling the skin start to tingle from the sun’s heat. “What hot celebrity club is going to let your geeky, sunburned friend in?”

 

Sara frowned. “You want to go out?”

 

Felicity opened her mouth, then closed it, aware that this offer was somewhat out of character for her. Less the party girl and more the stay-inside-cradling-a-computer type, Felicity could see why Sara was questioning her suggestion. But ever since Cooper, she felt like she needed to be cliché and expand her horizons, open up new doors—be spontaneous.

 

“Sure,” Felicity said, shrugging. “I’m only in Starling for a couple of days and it is a city, which means wicked night clubs, am I right?”

 

Sara closed her eyes. “Please, dear God, never say ‘wicked’ again.”

 

“That’s not what the kids are saying these days?” Felicity teased.

 

Sara laughed, slapping a hand across her forehead. “You see what Vegas is doing to you?”

 

Felicity smiled as she stood, examining her legs, aware that they were beginning to turn a rosy color. “I’d rather not look like a tomato tonight for our wild night out on the town,” Felicity said, which got her an eye roll. “So I think this conversation is best continued under one of your Persian styled chandeliers.”

 

Sara groaned. “Really?” Standing, she placed a hand on her hip. “How long are these celebrity jokes going to go on for? And I would just like to point out that those are energy saving lights, so don’t you give me any crap.”

 

Felicity couldn’t help smiling as she listened to Sara rant about how almost every appliance in her apartment was eco friendly, thank-you-very-much. They walked toward the roof door, their flip-flops thwacking against the cement as they discussed details of the night ahead.  

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t know about this,” Felicity said, staring at herself in the full-length mirror. They were in Sara’s room, a mess of clothes and empty paper bags were thrown about. Clearly time hadn’t improved her cleanliness, which in a way settled Felicity, who was glad to see that a piece of the old Sara was still present.

 

“What do you mean?” Sara stuck her head out from inside her closet. “You look hot.”

 

Felicity turned, examining the back of the dress, which was left exposed, all the way down to the small of her back. Sara had let Felicity borrow one of her going out dresses, which surprisingly fit her.

 

“Why do you have all of these dresses that aren’t even your size?” Felicity had asked, while thumbing through rows of them an hour before. She realized, immediately after asking, that she already knew the answer: perks of being famous.

 

“Designers will just send me clothes to wear sometimes,” Sara had said. “Guesstimating my size.”

 

“And you’ve just been hoarding all of them here?”

 

Felicity eventually settled on the deep crimson dress she had on right now, one she knew her mother would enthusiastically approve of. She _did_ look hot in the dress. And considering she was never one to overly expose any part of herself, inside or out, she was quite ok with her choice. The dress wasn’t the problem.

 

Cooper was the problem.

 

After they’d had some pre-party cocktails, which Sara masterfully crafted herself, Felicity started to internally vocalize her doubts about going out. It was the same voice that prevented her from skipping class or ordering that extra cup of coffee. It would reap all the consequences: missing a deadline, staying up way too late. Now it was playing the ‘too soon’ card.

 

_You and Cooper just broke up, it’s too soon to be having any kind of fun. You should be sitting in front of a TV, watching re-runs of Dirty Dancing and criticizing Cooper because he doesn’t have the body or strength to pull off ‘the move’ let alone pull off being your boyfriend._

Felicity tried to shake this thought, telling herself that she wasn’t back home, where that option was a feasible alternative. She was in Starling City, full of people looking for ways to escape. She could be anyone she wanted to be for the night and no one at the bar would remember or even see her again. She could be Cool Felicity. Flirty Felicity. Party Felicity. Sara acted all the time, how hard could it be?

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently, Cool Felicity didn’t make it past the threshold of the club. 

 

Immediately upon entering Verdant she had somehow managed to trip some poor girl on her way to the bathroom as well as smack right into a tall man carrying two green colored drinks. Now he was wearing those drinks on his baby blue Polo shirt.

 

The guy groaned, glancing down to assess the damage.

 

Felicity winced, trying to ease the tension. “Green looks good on you,” she said, attempting to dab away the seeping liquid with a cocktail napkin. But Sara grabbed hold of her arm and pulled Felicity away, shooting the guy an apologetic look.

 

“That couldn’t have gone worse,” Felicity said, when they finally made it to the bar without her causing any further damage.

 

Sara shrugged. “Everyone’s drunk. Put some tonic water on it and he should be fine.”

 

But Felicity wasn’t even _that_ drunk. Sure the reds, blues, and greens of the clubs lights seemed more vibrant under her thin screen of alcohol, but she could hardly blame her natural lack of grace on a small dose of happy liquid.  

 

“Tequila,” Sara said to the bartender, shooting him a warm smile.

 

Felicity raised an eyebrow. “Planning on getting naked tonight?”

 

“It’s been a long week.”

 

“I hear that,” Felicity said, as the bartender returned with a row of four shots. Felicity and Sara clinked their first and shot the liquid back, both wincing after.

 

“ _Oh_ , it’s like college,” Felicity said, rolling her lips as she felt a heat spread across the span of her chest.

 

“Try every weekend,” Sara said, grabbing her other shot and slamming it back without thinking twice. Felicity felt a twang of something in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but a warning blared somewhere in the back of her mind.

 

Someone tapped Felicity’s shoulder. She turned, locking eyes with the bartender who slid some kind of martini her way.

 

“From the guy over there,” he said, nodding across the length of the bar. Felicity followed his gaze, which ended on an older gentleman who raised a glass her way, once their eyes met.

 

“You should go talk to him,” Sara said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“He’s, like, forty,” Felicity said, biting her lip. She touched the base of the drink, the heat from her fingers making the cool glass fog up.

 

“I’m not saying date the guy, you unfortunately have Cooper for that, but at least thank him,” Sara said, snapping a little. She always got this way when she was well on her way to black out.

 

“I will, as long as you promise me you’ll slow down on the drinks,” Felicity said, still trying to keep it light.

 

Sara gave her friend a smile and patted her on the arm. “You got it kid. I’ll be dancing if you need me.”

 

Sara then slid off her stool, giving a salute, before weaving herself deeper into the crowd.

 

Felicity picked up her martini, figuring a quick thank you would be enough and then she would go find Sara out on the dance floor. But as she went to go tuck a stray hair behind her ear, she accidentally unhooked her earring. It had been her grandmothers, a gift she only wore on special occasions. Felicity watched it tumble to the floor, disappearing in the mass of feet.

 

“Crap,” Felicity said, immediately dropping to her knees. She had a hard enough time keeping her dress down and managing to hold the drink in her hand, while prodding around for the missing earring.

 

After a few moments of scanning and getting oh so close and personal with the sticky, wet floor, Felicity finally saw it next to a pair of shiny, dress shoes. She reached, scooping it up as she let out a triumphant ‘aha’ once it was safely in her fist. As she rose, the liquid from the drink spilling over the sides slightly, she replaced the earring, relief flooding through her.

 

“Drop something?” A deep voice asked. Shocked, Felicity looked up, her eyes falling on an unfamiliar, yet extremely attractive, face. She realized the man belonged to the dress shoes she had been hovering over moments before. His head was cocked to the side, a playful grin teasing the sides of his lips as if he just couldn’t figure out what to make of her.

 

* * *

 

 

The dark haired woman had one of her hands buried deep in Oliver’s right pant pocket. She was running a long nail along the outline of his hip as he tried to remember how he knew her. He thought, maybe, they had slept together once before, but didn’t want to assume.

 

She was leaning in closer now, her lips hovering just above his ear. “I can show you my collection of handcuffs, Mr. Queen,” she purred, drawing her finger lower and lower… Oliver grabbed her hand, removing it from the inside of his pocket.

 

There were two thinks Oliver didn’t like, one was being called Mr. Queen and the other was desperation, which was practically radiating off of her.

 

“Excuse me,” Oliver said, dropping her hand and brushing past her.

 

For some reason, he wasn’t feeling it tonight. Just getting out of jail two days prior had gotten him a good chew out from his families publicist—putting a damper on his whole mood. Lyla was notorious for cleaning up his trail of messes but lately she had been even more intolerant than usual.

 

“This is the fourth arrest this month for an assault on a bouncer,” she’d said earlier that morning. “What’s the point in doing damage control when you’re going to make the same mistake next week?”

 

Oliver hadn’t really had an answer for her, considering the events that triggered the alleged assault weren’t stored in his memory bank, thanks to his good friend Captain Morgan.

 

“Things have got to change, Oliver,” Lyla had said, lifting a finger, like she was scolding a child. “For the sake of both you and your families reputation.”

 

His father hadn’t even looked at him that afternoon, he had been so furious, and his mother had maintained her unwavering, disappointed stare all evening. Most of the time Oliver didn’t mind being a Queen. The money, fame, and women helped with the title but sometimes, sober times, he wondered when his life had gotten so damn depressing.

 

Oliver moved through the crowd, trying to reach the bar that was starting to become heavily populated, when something on the floor caught his eye—scratch that— _someone_ on the floor caught his eye.

 

She was in a red dress, crawling on all fours, blond hair fanning over her exposed back as she searched for something. Oliver squinted down at her as she drew near. He could tell she was mumbling to herself, her perfectly colored lips moving ever so slightly as she ran her hands along the dirty ground.

 

Oliver couldn’t help but smile; a movement that was so foreign to him, he thought perhaps he had imagined it. But the grin still remained on his lips as she stopped in front of him, grabbing whatever it was she had been looking for. He thought he heard an ‘aha’ escape her lips as she started to stand.

 

“Drop something?” Oliver asked, catching her by surprise. Her wide eyes shot up to him, her mouth opening and closing as it tried to play catch up. She settled on a small smile, smoothing out her dress

 

“Earring,” She said, pointing to it. “Family heirloom. I promise I don’t usually hang out on my knees… in that way. Not that there is any other way I prefer to be on my knees… in this context… oh God I’m doing it again. Ok, I’m just going to thank that gentlemen for this drink-“

 

She pointed behind Oliver, at someone in the distance.

 

“-and then leave because this clearly is not my night.”

 

Oliver turned around, spotting Crazy Kirk wiggling his eyebrows in their direction. He cracked a bigger smile as he turned back to the cute blonde.

 

“Crazy Kirk?”

 

Oliver noticed a strike of color appear across her cheeks. He backtracked, trying not to embarrass her.

 

“The guy has a habit of sending out cheap, virgin, cranberry drinks to women,” he said, pointing at her glass. “So he has an excuse to talk to them.”

 

She frowned, bringing the drink up to her nose and sniffing it. A wave of recognition registered on her face as she placed the glass on the bar counter.

 

“This is a regular thing?” She finally asked.

 

Oliver shrugged. “He means no harm. Probably just wants someone to talk to.”

 

They both looked back at Crazy Kirk, who seemed to understand that he had been ratted out, and was moving to another area of the club.

 

Oliver turned back to the blond, noticing the way she bit her bottom lip—finding this strangely attractive.

 

“Oliver,” he said, sticking out a hand.

 

She looked down at it and then back up at him before offering her own. Judging by the look on her face, she didn’t seem to know who he was. Interesting.

 

“Felicity,” she smiled, rolling her lips. God he couldn’t stop staring at them.

 

“Mind if I buy you an actually drink?”

 

Felicity tilted her head to the side. “You’re willing to converse with a potentially psychotic blond you met grazing the diseased ridden floor?”

 

Oliver smirked, nodding as they took a seat. “I like to live life on the edge.”

 

“Brave man,” Felicity offered, tapping her fingers lightly against the glass counter.

 

Oliver asked the bartender for a cranberry martini, before giving Felicity a wink, which she turned away from—hiding a smile. He studied her for a moment, taking in the glow of her face against the multicolored club lights, which created a halo around her head.

 

“Do you come here often?” He finally asked.

 

She frowned at this, raising an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a line?”

 

“No,” he said, sincerely. “Just genuine curiosity. I haven’t seen you around.”

 

Something flicked across her eyes, a subtle recognition.

 

“I’m not from here,” she said, as the bartender slid the martini her way.

 

Felicity picked up the glass, her unsure eyes still holding his gaze, like she was having an internal debate. There was something fascinating about her—a quiet innocence that beckoned him forward. Perhaps she was too innocent, too breakable for him to handle. He watched her bring the drink up to her mouth, her red lips parting as her tongue briefly grazed the rim of the glass, welcoming the rush of liquid.

 

* * *

 

 

Felicity had no idea how the hell she had gotten from point A to point B.

 

Point A being Verdant and point B being her mystery guy—Oliver’s—penthouse.

 

She tried to recall all the events that had unfolded within the past hour, but it was hard when an extremely attractive male was running his smooth lips over her pulse point.

 

They had been at the bar, making casual conversation as Felicity internally questioned why he was talking to her. Not only had she made a complete fool of herself moments before, crawling around like some primitive animal right out of those Ape movies. But she was, well, Felicity Smoak. There were plenty of leggy models floating around, all of which probably had more experience dealing with this kind of situation.

 

At first, she thought he might be some kind of predator, luring young females into his lair where he then stuffs them down a well as they beg for mercy—she may have watched Silence of the Lambs one too many times—but the more she talked to him, the more she got the feeling that he wasn’t some kind of skin suit wearing creep. And she was used to creeps, considering she could locate most of them at various strip clubs in Vegas. Oliver seemed mischievous, but sweet and was curious about her, for some reason.

 

She vaguely remembered reading Sara’s text, which said she felt sick and had gone home—mentioning something about not wanting to disrupt Felicity’s harmless flirting with ‘sexy danger guy.’ By this point she felt a bit more than buzzed and was high off of the possibility of the night.

 

Cooper had only entered her mind once, when Oliver asked if she had a boyfriend. She replied with a stern no, getting an eyebrow raise from him.

 

“He’s no longer in the picture,” Felicity added, hoping that she could keep her emotions in check. She just needed to not be _that girl_ for once. She wanted to be Cool Felicity. Party Felicity. _Spontaneous_ Felicity.

 

Which was probably what led her to the cab ride with him, her legs splayed across his lap as they drove down the nearly abandoned streets.

 

Now, she was reaching for the buttons on his shirt, popping one after another as she parted the fabric. Oliver had his hands on her hips, directing her back into his place, his thumbs running circles around her hipbone. Her breath left her in a rush as his hands moved to the back of her dress, cool fingertips riding up her spine.

Unlooping her purse from her shoulder, she dropped it onto his hardwood floor, kicking off her shoes in the process. Oliver’s mouth was still on her neck, trailing up and down, nipping at the space between her collarbone and shoulder. She couldn’t help but giggle, partially because it tickled and also because of the thrill. When she had sex with Cooper, it had never felt like _all_ of him was touching _all_ of her at once. But something about the way that Oliver’s hands, chest, and lips moved over her body made her feel like every inch of her skin was engulfed in his embrace.

When his lips finally found hers, she allowed herself a soft moan, inviting him in as she wrapped her arms over the span of his shoulders. Oliver’s muscles rippled under her touch as his hands moved down to grasp the backs of her thighs, scooping her up one fluid motion. She rested against his bare chest as he navigated them into his bedroom, his fingers moving toward the zipper of her dress that she was practically itching to get out of. She wanted to feel his testy fingers over the smoothness of her body.

 

When they fell back onto his bed, Oliver had somehow managed to unzip her, as he was now slowly folding back the fabric of her skintight dress. A slow reveal: tempting her excitement.

 

He hovered above her, discarding her dress as his eyes scanned the length of her body. She felt him grow, his torso pressed firmly against the top of her thighs. She felt a blush creep along her cheeks—Oliver must have noticed it because he smiled and leaned down, kissing the rosy skin tenderly.

 

 _You don’t do this,_ the voice in the back of her mind said.

 

“Do what?” Oliver mumbled against her skin.

 

Crap, had she said that out loud?

 

Felicity shook her head, winding her hands behind his neck as she directed his lips back toward her own. It was true, sex with random strangers wasn’t exactly a hobby she had picked up over the years, but that was because she’d been with Cooper for the past three.

 

As Oliver’s hands grazed the layout of her body, making her bite her lip and squeeze her eyes shut, she knew that this was something she was going to do tonight. Not because she needed to be distracted, or do something spontaneous but because she actually _wanted_ to do it, no strings attached. And it felt good to want something that was all her own.

 

* * *

 

 **Author’s Note:** Thoughts, questions, confessions? Send them my way and thanks for reading!


End file.
